


A Passing Encounter

by Marquise



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Loss of Virginity, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1492624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquise/pseuds/Marquise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She shouldn't be here. He's her parent's <i>friend</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Passing Encounter

“We shouldn’t.” The words came out of her mouth more as a precaution than an actual desire to stop, a chance to give him a way out. Sansa didn’t wish to stop though she knows this is wrong, that she should not be pressed up against a wall as a party roared below, that she should not be allowing this man to have her here, in her parent’s house.

She knows that this is sleazy, that there is an element to this that will linger in her mind for days on end after this encounter—not quite _regre_ t _,_ but the knowledge that something had changed, completely, and that she was not the woman they all thought she was.

So she gives him an out. This was not supposed to happen—she only made her way upstairs as a way out of the press down below, the chorus of _My, haven’t you grown!_ , the repeated questions about her lack of a boyfriend, the constant comparisons to her mother. She had hardly drunk and, far too sober, had found herself ill equipped to handle being the daughter of a host.

She had not expected Petyr to be up here, leaning against the wall with his hands deep in his pockets, but in retrospect it made sense. Perhaps, unconsciously, she had followed him in his retreat. 

And so they had talked and split pilfered whiskey and now she was pressed against the wall, his lips forming a trail down her jaw, his hands digging into her waist, coaxing the material of her A-line skirt up. 

At her words he pulled away, regretfully. She had almost uncomfortably wet, her body aching for something she had never before experienced but now wanted more than ever.

His eyes searched hers in the dark, his hands still tight on her body but not moving, merely _holding_. He seemed lost, completely unsure of what to do. “Do you not want to?”

It was such a simple phrase, though she couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift from _should_ to _want_. She very much wanted him; the question was whether or not she should have him. Or, rather, let him have her.

He was old enough to be her father, and then some. And they could be caught, quite easily—the party still sounded below, and Sansa had no way of knowing how long it would be until she was missed. Whatever happened up here had to be quick.

“No, I—“ The sentence ended then. Anything else would be splitting hairs, and she wanted nothing more than to ease into him now, to be taken by this man who had stalked the edges of her life for far too long. She kissed him again, pressed against him more, gave in.

His fingers brushed up her thigh, his lips a soft smirk against hers when he found her wet and needy. Her mouth opened in a gasp and he swallowed it, tongue flickering out to taste the last bits of alcohol on her lips. 

The scrap of fabric was hastily pulled aside and his fingers replaced it, sliding through her cleft, teasing her in such a way that all her previous, self-inflicted caresses now seemed awkward. Her hands clawed at his shirt, gathering clumps of fabric between her fingers. She wanted to strip him bare, something deeply primal taking control of the prim girl, but she knew that it would be foolish.

The pads of his fingers played over her entrance, dipping inside only to discover how _tight_ she was, and what that must mean. She could feel the sharp recoil of his breath, this hiss noticeable in the air. 

“Sansa...” His lips grazed her skin. And then, slowly, he entered her with one finger, in and out, pressing against her clitoris as he did so, making her squirm against his body. Giving her this chance to resist, hoping through his actions that she would not.

“That’s it...” He kissed her pulse point then, brought his lips to hers as he entered her with another finger. Her leg rose to accommodate him, her eyes moved to ensure that the door to this little-used room was safely locked behind them.

 _This is stupid_. The words entered her mind only to trip out again, the press of him—the hardness of him, concealed by woolen slacks—chasing away any restraint. Perhaps she needed this, this illicit, shared secret.

“Please,” she said, her voice strong. Petyr nodded against her body and soon he was filling her completely. The pain was sharp, the smell of blood noticeable, but soon enough it was replaced by a deeper, more delicious ache. Pinned by him like this, exposed and claimed, she could do little more than hold on and pull him closer.

It was an utterly wicked, preserve thing, and she held onto it as such. Fucking her parent’s friend while they mingled downstairs, what would they ever say? Petyr was being careful not to leave marks that could be seen and she appreciated that, but it lent another sordid layer to the whole thing. She pictured herself returning to the party when this was all over, her legs shaky, her whole being changed, and only he would know the stains, the marks that lingered underneath.

A shared, secret encounter. Oh yes, there would be something powerful in that.

Each thrust pushed her back further against the wall, his fingers working over her, bringing her off as quickly as they could. The whole act was silent, rushed, but by no means unpleasant. On the contrary Sansa felt a deep satisfaction the likes of which she had not expected, the sense of being _filled_ so great—and greater still when she came, body convulsing against his, his mouth covering hers to take in her gasp of pleasure, both to silence her and to simply _enjoy_.

He pulled out soon after that, his wet fingers taking his cock in hand to bring himself off, the semen glistening in the dark. She watched him, transfixed, still holding onto his body, her legs weak. 

After some time he kissed her deeply, lingering over her lips, and she knew without a word that this would not end.


End file.
